


Cookies and Kenobi

by Redone



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redone/pseuds/Redone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Commander Cody finally managed to get a Jedi general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Cody got his Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> I started this story WAAY back sometime after season 2 or season 3, don't really remember. Anyways, I browsed the Wookieepedia for information then, but meanwhile, a lot of that information has been changed. I never bothered to change my headcanon, or my story.

Commander Cody stood alone in Docking Bay G-262, and he was petrified with anxiety.

He was currently holding the unofficial record of Losing Your General. And none of it had been his fault.

First, just after completing his training on Kamino, he had been assigned to Master Vitan; but before he and his (then) company could even be shipped off to their new general, the Jedi had got himself killed by some Seps. Cody had then been sent to Master Windu's troops as a sort of „trainee commander“, to get some real battle experience, and indeed he'd fought his first battle there and even had his first injury, though minor.

But CC-series senior command clones like Cody were by necessity rather few, compared with the regular ones; it took longer to train them and they had some individual genetic fiddling done to them; thus they were a lot more expensive. Therefore the Kaminoans had considered it a waste to give him a lesser post. And General Windu's senior command posts were all filled, at that time. So off Cody was again, assigned to a newly minted general, a Jedi Knight Teri.

He and his new troops had almost reached Coruscant when the death message came through. The blue hologram of the Kaminoan official, Mia Toa, had looked at him reproachfully, shaking her head. „My, my, CC-2224,“ she had said, „You do go through your generals rather quickly, do you not? If you keep this up, soon there will be no Jedi left.“ Cody had stood at attention, shocked to the core, practically shaking in his boots. _Surely she cannot blame me? She_ does _blame me!!!_ It did not even occur to him to protest. The only thing hammering through his head was,  _please not reconditioning, please not reconditioning..._

„I've no idea what to do with you,“ Madam Toa had said dryly. „Let the Jedi Council decide. No doubt they'll inform you. And us. Good luck, CC-2224.“

And so Cody was waiting for his new general, worried that, with his record, he would lose a third one without ever setting eyes on him; worried that, like the Kaminoans, the Jedi would also find him defective somehow and not even bother to send anyone.

_Just... Just let me at least see this new Jedi. Let me get him safe onboard the cruiser, with the boys, and I swear, I'll do everything by the book. I swear._ He didn't even know whom he should be praying to. Was the „Force“ that Jedi Windu had sometimes mentioned some kind of deity?

He paced for a few minutes, then leaned against the wall under an awning. The armor made sitting on hard surfaces somewhat uncomfortable, so he avoided that. Lying down, on the other hand, wasn't so bad, especially with the kit serving as a head rest. Above, constant traffic sped by in the whine and buzz of sublight engines, but the landing platform itself was, for the moment, quiet and almost deserted, only a cleaning droid was puttering about by the loading racks. A gust of wind was churning up small clouds of dust.

Cody was getting impatient. Nervous, bored, hungry and impatient. He checked his comm to see whether it was still in working order. It was. Why then was there still no message from the Temple? _Either give me a general or just tell me to march off back to Kamino. Just stop this endless waiting. It's lunchtime and I want my grub._ Idly, he scratched some games of noughts and crosses in the dust. Noughts seemed to be always losing.

His boys in the cruiser up in the orbit were probably having their lunch now. The cruiser itself was dubbed the _Negotiator_ and was brand new and shiny like most of his boys, like almost anything in the GAR _._ It was ready to take off as soon as the new general was on board, and take the shiny new clones (okay, some not so shiny and not so new, a few who had been on Geonosis even) to their first posting. Their first _real_ posting in this war. Most of them had their armours still undented, their newly painted markings still fresh and unchipped. Orange-yellow for the newly formed elite Attack Battalion, the 212th; Cody was thinking of possibly adopting the colour for his whole new corps.  Or what would be his new corps. At present the Attack Battalion was the only unit that was kind-of sort-of approaching a reasonable battle strength, the rest was a patchwork of divisions; several specialized units were still no further than in the planning stage. But new batches of clones were churned out of Kamino facility at regular intervals, and gradually the corps would reach its full complement and fighting power. The 7th Sky Corps.

Sky Corps indeed, Cody snorted. Whoever came up with these names? He hoped it was not named after that crazy Jedi boy from the battle on Geonosis, Skyflyer or whatshisname... Ah, yes, _walker._ Sky _walker_. The one that, they said, had first started the farce that had been the „rescue mission“. Some rescue, indeed. Cody had not participated there, but he had heard a thing or two about how the glorious, lightsaber-wielding Jedi had, wide-eyed and unaware, walked into a droid trap and got killed by the hundreds. Battle-naive and untrained, the lot of them. Didn’t have the least idea of proper tactics or battle planning. And then, what do you know, the di’kuts would be placed at the head of perfectly good clone troops. Shabla  Jedi. And Skywalker the worst of them.

Thanks to an ARC brother named Kee, a veteran of Geonosis, any cadet on Kamino now knew the antics of the Jedi on Geonosis. Kee had scripted a strategy holo-game of sorts, based on the events, and copies of it had spread like wildfire first through all commissioned troops and from there also through cadet barracks and training facilities. In the game, „Jumper“ – who was said to be Skywalker – was one of the strongest pieces but one of the most difficult to keep alive. 

Cody shook his head bitterly, wondering if it would be just his luck to be saddled with the Great Jumping Skywalker himself.

He hoped not.

On the other hand, with Cody's luck, Skywalker would get himself blown out of the sky before he even reached the docking bay.

He _certainly_ hoped not. The Kaminoans would never, ever, let him get away with getting the Jedi poster boy killed. Even if Cody had absolutely nothing to do with that. He had just experienced exactly how much that counted with the Kaminoans.

He tried to remember the names and faces of some of the Jedi Masters that had been mentioned in their training. If he had a choice, whom would he pick? What were they like in life, as persons? Would they view clones as expendable cannon fodder? Or would they be open to tactical suggestions from some of the more experienced clone officers? His brief stint with Windu's troops had not given him much experience to draw from, except perhaps that the Jedi were somewhat standoffish. 

Hey, perhaps he'd get a female Jedi? There were some who looked passably pretty, he knew. Would be nice to have someone pleasant to look at. _Would be a shame to get a pretty female Jedi killed._ He didn’t think he had personally met more than three or four females in his whole life. Yes, a female would be exciting.

On the other hand, with his luck, it would more likely be a Dug or Gamorrean. Perhaps better so.

Cody’s stomach grumbled. He thought with some envy on his boys up on the _Negotiator_. Lunchtime. Standard clone grub, most probably, but still, it filled – and if you were lucky, it was warm, or at least lukewarm. Now where the fierfek was that stupid General? Eating, probably. Some fancy Alderaanian nipdibbles. Keeping his ( _or her – please please, let it be_ her) perfectly good Commander here baking in the sun, hungry. Didn't promise much for their future relationship, did it.

As if in response to his thought, a gunship departed from one of the busy skylanes and arched down towards the landing platform. Cody got to his feet slowly, dusted his armour and picked up his bucket. _Okay, here goes nothing. If the ship doesn't blow up on landing... By the book, Cody, by the book._

The figure who emerged was a human male ( _I just knew it. Oh well... At least not a Gamorrean_ ). „Hello, soldier. You must be waiting for me.“

Cody saluted smartly. „Yes, sir!“

„Well, then. Hop on, and we'll be on our way. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi,“ he continued as their gunship lifted away smoothly.

So, that was to be his Jedi. Kenobi. And the ship hadn't blown up yet. So far, so good.

Cody had recognised him, of course. The face was plastered all over the holonews. Close up, Cody could also see that Kee had done a pretty good job on the figure of „Master“ in his hologame – there was a definite visual similarity. Youngish – not that Cody was very good at estimating human age – anyway, he seemed a lot younger than most of the training sergeants on Kamino. A neat beard and shoulder-length blond hair  and the ubiquitous brown billowing cloak that in Cody's opinion was as ridiculous as it was risky. And, naturally, a shiny little lightsaber that was dangling on his belt.

_By the book, Cody._ „Sir! Clone Marshal Commander CC-2224, reporting for duty, sir.“

„Pleased to meet you,“ Kenobi said, „though I’d rather call you by your name.“

„Sir?“

„I was given to understand that you also have names, CC-224…“

„2224,“ Cody automatically corrected.

„See. Think of me as numerically challenged. I’d like to call you by your name, if you’ll allow me, Commander.“

„Er. Sir.“ Cody hesitated. _By the book_ did not include names. Names were not official. On Kamino, names were for friends, and not so many cadets had named themselves on Kamino back when he was growing. In the army, brothers did call each other by names, rather  than numbers, but that was because they were all brothers in arms. No Kaminoan official had ever called him by name; no non-Kaminoan official had ever called him anything at all, and in Jedi Windu's troops they were mostly „soldier“ or „commander“. No official documentation anywhere contained any mention of a clone trooper commander „Cody“.

On the other hand, was there actually any regulation against letting a general use your name? As long as you didn’t fail to answer?

Oh well. So much for „by the book“. „Cody, sir,“ he said after some hesitation. „My name is Cody.“

„Cody, then.“ And Kenobi flashed him another of his brilliant, white-toothed smiles. A _dangerous_  smile, in its charm. A „got what I wanted“ smile. Cody felt for the first time that, with this Jedi, he might now and then find himself in uncharted territory.


	2. Cody Gets a Cookie

They did get onboard the _Negotiator_ in one piece.

Naturally, the hangar deck swarmed with curious troopers: everybody wanted to get a first glance on their new Jedi. To have their own Jedi general was a big thing to any clone army unit. It meant to be recognised as an independently operating part of the Grand Army. To see the purpose for which they had been grown and trained now realized. To have their own mascot, if you please. The Jedi were few, and a legend in the Galaxy. Very few of the troopers had ever met one. They said one was to be stationed on Kamino, overseeing the training of cadets, but nobody was sure whether it was true or just a rumour. So it was a triumph, of sorts, that they had finally successfully secured themselves a Jedi general.

As soon as the gunship's engines shut down, Cody could discern an excited buzz which rose to a clamor of greeting calls and laughter the moment the Jedi, in his long brown cloak, appeared on the ramp. As they stepped out, clones dropped all pretense of working – those few who had bothered to look like they were actually doing something, instead of just lolling about – and gathered closer. Cody got several supportive shoulder slaps and waves, and shouts, „Hey, Commander! Good work, Cody!“

He saw the familiar golden buzz in the vicinity. Rex. A good friend he may be, but he could have a big mouth occasionally. There certainly were moments a clone could do without such friends. _Shut up, Rex. If you are a brother, then keep that tongue of yours—_

„So you finally managed to bring one alive? Well done, brother!“

_Riiight. You're so dead, Rex._

Cody peered at Kenobi from the corner of his eye, hoping against hope that the Jedi hadn't caught that. Gauging his reaction: _osik, run,_ or live to fight another day? The eyebrows creeping up to the hairline were somewhat ambiguous. Cody sighed. „Just welcoming you, sir,“ he muttered. Then he took a deep lungful of air and roared vengefully, „GENERAL ON DECK!!!“

All noise was cut off, everybody standing motionless at perfect attention. _Gotcha, Rex, old boy. That will shut you up. Remind you who's the boss._

Speaking of playing boss... He held the glances of some of the closest troopers briefly. „Your men, General,“ he said quietly to Kenobi, and then stepped back, leaving the stage to the Jedi.

Who, of course, promptly undid Cody's good work. He chose the moment to hold, of all things, a _speech._ Hopes for fruitful cooperation and swift victory, blah-blah. Thankfully not very long, but – you just didn't _do_ that to the clones. It wasn't in. What he should have done, was, „The name's Kenobi. You'll have my back. Dismissed.“ Instead, he was blathering about cooperation. What cooperation? He was the Jedi, the clones were supposed to follow, obey and protect, what more was there? 

As General Kenobi finished his small speech, silence once again took over the hangar deck The troopers stood at parade rest, perfectly, as they were supposed. Their lack of reaction seemed to confuse the Jedi, though, as he threw him a questioning glance. _Civilian_ , Cody rolled his eyes. Once again a lungful of air, and – „Dis-MISSED!“

He turned to Kenobi. _See, sir,_ that's _the way we do things here in the army._ Out loud, however, he said only, „Lunch, sir?“

 

***

 

As they navigated through the ship towards the officers' mess, Cody pointed out some things to the General. „The secondary strategy room, main one's up in the bridge, but I guess you know that, sir... Supply office, for anything you might need. This section, quarters of the admiral and officers. Yours will be here too. Says „Jedi“ on the door, at the moment.“ It had been a scramble to remove the engraved name of Knight Teri from the door in time. They probably changed the whole door. Cody didn't know, and at the moment, didn't care.

„Thank you,“ Kenobi smiled. „I'm afraid you're going to have to add another. I have a padawan learner.“

„Oh?“ He had an apprentice? A youngling? Another Jedi to keep alive under fire? Oh _kreth..._

„Well, I suppose I was given this command rather unexpectedly. I'll talk to the quartermaster sometime, but there's no hurry. My Padawan's currently recovering from a hand replacement operation. Count Dooku, Geonosis,“ he added in response to Cody's questioning glance.

Well. At least the youngling had tasted battle, then. And  Geonosis had certainly touched them all in some ways, both the clone brothers and the Jedi. „I'm sorry,“ Cody said only.

And then they arrived at the mess. Cody gestured for the Jedi to precede him. There were several officers in there, including the admiral who rose from his table to shake hands with the Jedi and introduce everybody.

Standing at parade rest, Cody turned out the scene for a while. Instead, he looked curiously around him. He'd never eaten in a place like this. Instead of serving machines, they actually had human servers behind counters, and some of the food was on display. Delicious aromas of meat and fresh bread accosted his nose, and his stomach gave a loud growl as he watched one of the cooks turn sizzling pieces of meat on a pan. Right beside him was a stand with various puddings, cakes and biscuits in a riot of appetizing colors and shapes. Cody's mouth watered as he stared at them, totally enchanted. His stomach gave another growl. Well, nothing for it but to leave the Jedi here and jog through the ship to the clones' mess. 

Seeing that the General was finished with his round of introductions and had already picked up a tray, he snapped to attention. „Have a pleasant lunch, General.“

„Why, Cody, aren't you staying?“

„No, sir. Sorry, sir. I eat at the, ah, the other mess.“

„Why?“

„Clones, sir,“ one of the officers in a nearby table interjected helpfully over a huge mouthful of creamy cake. Cody stiffened in embarrassment.

„The portions, sir,“ he hastened to smooth it over. „They're, er, _small_. We clones need more with our increased metabolism.“

„Well, that will never do,“ Kenobi said frowning, putting back his tray. He stroked his beard and then suspiciously asked, „They will feed me in that, er, _other_ mess of yours?“

Cody almost choked and, for once, even the ever-cool officers looked at each other in stunned surprise. „Why, of course, sir,“ the admiral finally said, „if that is what you wish.“

„I do. No offence to you, gentlemen, but I must get acquainted with my new clone commander.“ He smiled to them all. Then, as he passed the dessert stand that Cody had been admiring, he suddenly winked and grabbed a couple of packages, handing one of them over to Cody. „Lead the way, Commander.“

On their way to the forward part of the ship, where the clone quarters and mess were situated, Cody couldn't hold back his curiosity and tore open the package. Within were two golden, chocolate-dotted disks. He picked one and sniffed cautiously. „Is that a cake?“

„Cookie. Chocolate chip. My favorite. Goes well with tea.“

„Huh.“ And he shoved one of these whole into his mouth. A riot of crumbly, heart-warming sweetness made him almost moan. As he pressed his tongue to it, crumbles tickled the roof of his mouth and chocolate melted on his tongue. Pure heaven.

Unfortunately, it was gone all too soon. He chased every crumb from between the teeth with his tongue, to try and preserve the taste, and decided there and then that whenever he happened to win some creds in sabacc, he'd try and buy a whole package of these things. _Cookies._

Sheer, pure, loving heaven.

He eyed the remaining cookie in his package. Then eyed the Jedi, who was clearly, unabashedly smirking.

„You know,” Kenobi commented, „you're supposed to keep it for afters.”

Cody shrugged. Knowing a clone's life, you could never be certain there would be any afters. Still, with the General being all so shiny and new, it wouldn't do to antagonize him, so he shoved the thing into his utility belt, where ration bars normally went. A day to remember, he mused: he had finally got his first General, and he had met his first Cookie.

 


	3. Obeying Orders

 

Inevitably, the moment came, and all too soon, when the new and shiny Attack Battalion was loaded into gunships and dropped down planetside to do battle. Cody climbed into the larty optimistically, thinking that his new Jedi was, after all, a relatively decent guy. One he could work with.

An opinion he was forced to revise only a few moments into the battle.

As soon as they touched down, enemy fire was upon them. Cody had the center with a company of brothers, Appo had the left wing with less than a platoon, and Rex, with a relatively small contingent of spec-ops, was sent to take the rocky slope on their right, making sure that no surprise would be coming their way from there. Ahead was a deep chasm, crossed by a single bridge – the remains of two others that had been destroyed by orbital bombardment were still smoking – and beyond that, a steep tower-like structure that housed a Sep weapons factory. That was their target.

The air was thick with the stench of smoke and ozone, adrenaline and burning oil. With pleasure, Cody saw the white armoured shapes of his brothers move deftly and gracefully, give laser to the enemy swiftly, precisely, making every shot count. Well-trained. Deadly. Good boys they were, and Cody felt proud of them. They were outnumbered by droids, but then, they always were. Droids did not take ten years to hatch and train. They were cheap and quick to produce. They also did not look left or right, just marching ahead and pressing the blaster trigger. Nice little programmed toy soldiers, doing exactly what they were told, and falling nice and easy to blaster fire.

Speaking of doing what you are told, there was one who apparently wouldn’t. Cody distinctly remembered telling the Jedi – okay, suggesting politely, while they were descending in gunships, to keep behind the first line for the sake of safety. He may have remembered the Jedi protesting, but he chose to ignore that. After all, Force users or no, they fell to blaster fire just as nice and easy. Cody knew that.

Still, despite being informed politely, the General was flashing his lightsaber just ahead of Cody.

Cody hated it. Every single blaster bolt that made its way toward them made him twitchy with fear that it might slip through the General’s defenses. Somewhere at the back of that fear was absolute fury that his advice, given for the General's own safety, had been ignored so blatantly. But mostly, it was fear of hearing that cold, lethally polite voice of Madam Mia Toa again. _You do go through them rather quickly, commander. I've no idea what to do with you._ He barely had any attention left for his HUD and the messages buzzing through the audio comm. He cursed under his breath.

And the di’kut had even refused a proper armor! That ridiculous brown flowing cloak was hardly enough protection, was it? Someone’s going to get a lecture sometime soon, Cody decided, as he ran closer to cover the Jedi with his body if necessary.

And what did he get for his pains? „Get back, Cody, you're crowding me!“

He growled angrily, squeezing off another volley of shots. „Are you _trying_ go get killed, General? Get back here!”

Kenobi stopped for a moment, turning to look at him oddly. ( _And the sounds coming through the audio were definitely some trooper’s sniggers._ ) Then just jumped over some SBDs in a cloud of his billowing cloak, a flash of lightsaber, and the droids fell like toys around him. Cody couldn't help being somewhat impressed. _Good work, General._ Still, he wouldn't say that out loud. Jumping didn't make up for lacking survival skills.

Now, _that_ , he did say out loud.

The General twirled and marched up on him. „ _What_ is the matter with you, Cody? I'm a grown man, I don't need a babysitter–”

At that moment, of course, a shot came through. Directly at the Jedi, who had foolishly turned his back to the enemy.

„Kriff! Mind your…!” Cody yelped.

As if possessing an eye at the back of his head, Kenobi twisted away from the shot’s path; in one fluid motion the lightsaber blocked the shot. And then another that had followed the first. And another that would have hit Cody. Not that Cody cared, really. At this distance, the armor blocked them pretty good.

„Give me _space_ , Cody!” the Jedi repeated with a definite growl in his voice.

He shook his head, shouting over the fire, „Shabla Jedi! Do you want to die?”

„Cody, I swear...!”

“Just _where_ did you find this di’kut of a Jedi?” Appo grumbled over a private channel. “Does he have a survival instinct at all?”

Cody shrugged. Kenobi had been on Geonosis – had the battle affected him that way, or had he been like that before? There was no way of telling now. For the moment, his priorities seemed clear enough: to get off this planet with the Jedi still alive – and hopefully most of the brothers too – and, just maybe, if they were very lucky, to take the Sep tower. Which was looking less likely by the minute.

The audiocomm in Cody's helmet caught the whine of the blast and instinctively, he ducked. Fourty-Three, who had been standing behind him, fell with a cry. In the same instant, he could see other brothers fall where normal blaster fire shouldn’t have pierced their armour. “Whuh–?” Then reason caught up with him and crouching, he ran for cover to the nearest durasteel anti-tank barrier, even as a shout went up through their HUDs, „Snipers! They've got snipers!“ And a second later, a command from the left column, „Take cover, boys!“

The Jedi… Cody sighed. _Of course_ he hadn’t run for cover, the civilian. Instead, Kenobi was standing there brandishing his lightsaber, practically a sitting duck for the enemy snipers, until Sergeant Boz and another brother ran by him, crouching and covering him with their bodies. They did make it, and when Cody could breathe again, he nodded his thanks to both boys.

The Jedi, apparently, was not happy at all.

But neither was Cody. The Jedi had risked his brothers.

“General, we can't both watch your back and fight! If you insist on getting killed –“

“Cody, you should know that –“

“–  why don't you do it nicely and cleanly up on our Star Destroyer, not in a battle! We have a war to win here, good men are fighting and dying, and you keep up this – this _circus_!”

“Cody, what is going on?”

“Well, let me tell you this, General Kenobi, _sir_ – a _battle_ is going on! I do not know what they teach the civilians, but in a battle you follow orders, or you get your men killed! You follow orders, or your brothers are not able to watch your back!”

“Cody...” There was a definite growl in Kenobi's voice.

“I’m playing for keeps here, _sir!_ It was difficult enough to _finally_ get a live general, I'm not going to lose you in the very first battle!”

General Kenobi's eyebrows crept up into his hairline. He didn't reply, and in the ensuing silence Cody was suddenly very, very aware of the audience. Every clone around him had heard every word, either directly or over the radio comm. _Kriff_! He'd never meant to make such a spectacle of himself. He rarely even reprimanded his rookies in front of everybody, and now with the new, practically unknown factor that was the Jedi...

But he knew he was right. After all, the Jedi were fragile, easily destroyed – Cody and his men knew and understood that better than many. No brother would ever fault him for trying to protect a Jedi. After all, that was what they were bred to do. Protect the Republic, protect its citizens, protect the commanding officers – which meant, for the most part, the Jedi.

He squared his shoulders, staring at his general. Insubordination, at worst. But he refused to apologize, because he was not sorry. He was not.

General Kenobi let out a long breath of air, and somehow Cody knew he was letting go of his anger. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “Sergeant Boz, do you know what Cody was talking about?”

“Eh. Sir.” Boz saluted, just in case, then nodded to Cody. “I have to agree with the Commander here.”

“Agree – in what, specifically?”

“Sir. You are – er.” Boz shifted slightly, unsurely. “We're all ready to die to protect you, sir,” he said finally. “But we'd prefer to take the target as well.”

_Good brother, Boz._

“I assure you, I _can_ protect myself. I've seen battles long before you were even born,” Kenobi said in an exasperated tone.

The three clones responded only with somewhat sceptical silence. What battles – what _real_ battles could there be in peacetime, involving civilians, before the war broke out and the first brothers were shipped out from Kamino to save the Jedi? “Perhaps you've been trained for a different kind of war?” Boz finally piped in, trying to be helpful. “The previous Jedi were killed before they even got to us. Or we would have protected them.”

Kenobi shook his head, then narrowed his eyes. “The previous­ –? Ah. I see.” He looked at Cody. “I do believe we're in for some serious talk, Commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Cody said rather unrepentantly. _At least you'll be alive to do the talking. I'll do my best to ensure that._  

The Jedi sighed and turned his attention to their ultimate goal, the Separatist tower that housed weapons factory. “We need to take out these snipers first.”

***

 


	4. His boys

The atmosphere in the clones' mess was jubilant. Jedi Kenobi sat at the longest table ( _He came to the clones' mess again! To OUR mess! He's really OUR general!_ ), holding court amidst a swarm of exuberant shinies. Well, not shinies any longer: young soldiers right out of their first, victorious battle.

The boys were basking in their General's presence like in the sun. He could tell they liked the fact that their General had chosen _their_ mess. He also knew that they were proud of their General, of his battle prowess and how he single-handedly had taken down the snipers, thus saving dozens of clone lives that would have been lost taking the tower. They wondered at how coolly he ate the clone fare, without the usual grimaces and 'how can you stand that, boys' type of pity. They wondered at how high the General could really jump, after having witnessed the man fly up onto the high landing bay where snipers had been sitting. They bombarded him with questions so that the poor man could hardly put food in his mouth – at least Cody hoped that this was the reason why the portion refused to diminish on the Jedi's plate, and not the food being totally inedible for Kenobi's birth-born palate. After all, it did seem somewhat more grey than usual.

Grabbing his tray and an extra cup of caf, Cody found a place on the other side of the table, a few places down from the Jedi, and the seats around them were quickly taken up by those who had distinguished themselves in the battle.

 “Captain Tucker, sir. It is an honour to serve with you, sir.”

“Captain Harte, sir. That was some impressive bit of fighting today, if I may say so, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain Tucker, Captain Harte, I am glad to have been of service.”

“May I ask, sir, how did you jump so high?” a trooper sitting directly opposite to Cody piped up. “Was that some kind of jetpack?”

“No, he didn’t, stupid, he’s a Jedi, he uses his Jedi powers!” interjected his neighbour.

“Really?” all eyes turned upon the General. Kenobi just nodded.

“Cool! That was awesome, sir, the way you went! Did you see, boys! Whooo, up, and then zap, zap, ZAP with the lightsaber! And BANG goes the guns! Cool!” The trooper waved his arms wildly around, illustrating his description of the General’s glorious moments. Cody cautiously moved his caf cup further away.

“Why, thank you, lads.” There was an appreciative twinkle in the General’s eyes.

“Yeah, cool stuff,” a trooper called Caama agreed dreamily. “Just like in that Jedi and Droids hologame!”

His sergeant delivered a kick to the trooper under the table. “Shut the hell up, you di'kut! The General lost his Jedi _brothers_ there! Sorry, sir, won’t happen again, sir,” he turned to General Kenobi.

Cody rolled his eyes. “May I make known to you troopers Threepwood, Shimmy and Caama, sir,“ Cody pressed out between his teeth, still throwing glares at poor Caama who was rubbing his shins.

„We call him Shebs, sir,“ Shimmy inserted helpfully. There were some snickers and grins, though notably not from Caama himself. When the Jedi’s eyes were elsewhere, Cody saw some quick elbow scuffling between the two troopers. He frowned, and the boys immediately straightened.

„And their squad leader, Clone Sergeant CS-19/29842.“

At Kenobi’s raised eyebrow, the Sergeant shifted and muttered into his bowl, „Don’t have a name yet, sir. Sorry, sir.“

„Well, Sergeant. If you ever think of one, I suppose we'll have an occasion to celebrate your naming day.“

The Sergeant looked around and confusion gradually gave way to a dawning grin that was mirrored on the faces around him. There was no such concept as a naming day for a clone trooper, but on the other hand, why not? It would be a happy occasion to look forward to. „Gladly, sir! I’ll be sure to invite you, sir.“

“If you can stomach the clone gourmet, sir,” Boz inserted from the General’s other side.

There was some laughter. Once again Cody rolled his eyes. Ah, yes, they _had_ to bring this up. He was not the only one who had been to the officer’s mess and seen (and smelled, though there were very few among the clones who had actually _tasted_ ) what was served there.

General Kenobi eyed the portion on his plate. „Hmm. Well, boys, I suppose I should tell you about how I went with my master, Qui-Gon Jinn, on a diplomatic mission to Tel Deewa.“ The general made a dramatic pause. „They eat _grubs_ there, you know. Live ones are a special delicacy. The ones that _wiggle_ under your teeth.“

„Gross!“ unanimous fascination rang through the mess hall.

“They sort of... swam... in a translucent grey goo.” He gave an illustrative wiggle with his fingers, then speared some vegs on his fork, looking at them speculatively. “Apparently made from the bodily fluids of these same grubs, which they released when marinated with a certain plant native to that world.”

The clones sighed in disgusted wonderment. „How did you like them, sir?“ Tucker asked.

„Well, to be honest, I didn't manage to hold down my first one.” He waited out the laughter and continued, “Which almost instigated a diplomatic crisis, if not for my master's quick thinking. Since then I find I'm much less finicky about food.“

***

Just as they were exiting the mess hall, a birth-born NCO came running. “General Kenobi! General Kenobi, there’s been a package for you.”

The General signed the receipt and tore the packaging off. “Ah! Cookies, from Satine. My dearest, sweetest lady!” And with that, he marched off, the box under his arm, leaving Cody to look after him mournfully. An entire box of cookies! Despondently he thought of his second cookie, the one that he had thought of keeping for later, but then had lost to Rex in a game of sabacc. Bloody Rex.

Well, he wasn’t a commander for nothing.

“Rex!” he roared. “Torrent Company for training!”

There were groans around him. The boys probably all knew that this training would be a revenge of some sort, and therefore harder than usual. Grumbling, they made their way to the hangars where the bigger trainings usually took place. When Captain Rex passed him, he threw Cody a poisonous glance, and then patted his pocket gleefully.

Bloody Rex. He would _so_ train today.

 

***

TBC


	5. The Tray-Vyay Adventure

The door chimed and a voice from the duty desk came through the intercom. „Commander Cody, sir! A courier for you.”

 

„Send him in.”

 

As the door opened, a trooper marched in. Cody narrowed his eyes. There was something... odd about him. He knew many of his brothers, but this one, he was certain, he had never seen. His armour was unmarked and undented, a hallmark of a rookie freshly out of Kamino, but there was a certain nonchalance in his gait, which most likely would have sent a cadet to reassessment, if not straight to reconditioning. Besides, whoever would send a rookie as a private courier...? 

 

The rookie came to a stop in front of him, clicking his heels and saluting sharply. Cody’s eyebrows crept to his hairline. Really now, clicking heels? On Kamino, they only used to do that for Training Sergeant Brinte Baho’ar. Was the shabla rookie pissing him?

 

„Commander, sir! Trooper CT-Oh-Oh-Seven reporting for duty, sir!“ And he removed his helmet.

 

 

Cody stared. The general was standing before him, motionless as you please, standing at ease now as any trooper would, awaiting commands. His wavy golden locks were gone and he sported a military haircut, barely longer than Cody's own. The beard was still there, but that was not against regulation. So was, of course, the white toothed, mischievous grin that, he was beginning to learn, was very much a part of this Jedi.

 

He fought to suppress a laugh; he had to turn his back – very impolite, possibly there would be a reprimand – and press a fist to his mouth, and in the end he still failed. What he thought was a very unmanly giggle surged out of his throat and grew into a full-throated guffaw.

 

The General kindly allowed him a moment before he spoke up. “Do I pass muster, Commander?”

 

Cody did not want to appear rude. He really didn't. Staring fixedly out of the viewport, taking short breaths, with some effort he finally managed to suppress his laughter and turned back to General Kenobi. „Muster, sir... Ehh. Sorry, sir. Ha-ha!“ And off he went again.

 

***

 

“You’ll never pass. You’ll stand out.”

 

“Stand out how exactly?”

 

“You do not look like one of us, sir.”

 

“I’ll keep the helmet on.”

 

“Uh... With all due respect, General, can you even fire a deece? Do you even know how to undo the safety?”

 

“It doesn’t appear to be very difficult to figure out, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

 

“That is not the point, sir! What you are planning is just madness.”

 

“Well then, if not a deece, give me something else. Something like a missile launcher, or a reciprocator, perhaps: big and showy, so everybody will see the gun and nobody will care to pay attention to who’s holding it.”

 

“Hmph.” He muttered, “A cip-quad.”

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“Cip-quad. Only a civilian would call it a reciprocator, sir.”

 

“Well then, that.”

 

“NO. Ha bloody ha – _sir_. Give a civvy a live weapon, yeah, good idea. No, sir. Not going to happen. It is against the regulations.”

 

“I’ve studied the regulations, Cody. There is nothing there about not giving a Jedi a weapon.”

 

“Implied. Besides, you are just...”

 

“What?”

 

“Er. Sir. The way you walk, the way you respond... Everyone will see you are not Kamino-trained, that you are not a clone.”

 

“The, well, the _civvies_ as you call them, down on the planet, will not see the difference. They do not have your trained eye, my friend.”

 

“ _Kriff!_ You do have an answer to everything, don’t you, General. Well, you even speak wrong. Like a, dunno, some finely educated core-worlder.”

 

“What you mean is,” (and his voice becomes deeper and rougher,) “I don’t have your _fekking_ Mandalorian drawl?”

 

“Um. You are just, uh, completely, um, un- _clone-ish._ ”

 

“Thank you, I suppose.”

 

_Pause._

 

„But, well, sir... Aren't you a little... short... for a clone trooper?“

 

****

 

And thus it was that Jedi General Master Obi-Wan Kenobi hid himself among Cody’s men, making his way down to the planet Olzhakia. It was a world still sitting on the fence, so to say, holding on to their neutrality: they would not ally themselves with the Republic because their religious beliefs would not allow them to have any dealings with the Jedi, but neither were they willing to join the separatist Confederacy, mainly because it was well known that their leader Count Dooku was also a former Jedi.

 

The situation was somewhat politically sensitive, because Dooku had not taken their refusal to join the Confederacy well. There had been two attempts on the life of the Prince Regent, and there was little doubt about who was behind that. So the Olzhak government had accepted the help of the Grand Army with gratitude (and paid for it handsomely, of course) but they had expressly stated they did not wish any intervention from the Jedi Temple.

 

General Kenobi had disagreed. Vehemently.

 

Whatever made the General so sure that his presence was needed planetside, Cody did not know, but a good clone supported his commander. Always. Even in a mad adventure. So Cody did.

 

Besides, he privately thought his General was a good sort and his hunches could be trusted.

 

Even if he seemed a bit mad at times. Like the way his General could argue so bluntly with Grand Master Yoda, and in front of his own clone commander to boot. It still boggled Cody’s mind – a good soldier would never do that. Maybe Cody could teach the General a bit, how to be a good soldier.

 

******

 

A whole procession of GAR armoured vehicles and troop carriers escorted the Prince Regent across half the planet to his War Refuge. The event involved perhaps more pomp and circumstance than Cody considered strictly necessary, but who was he to criticise the foibles of planetary rulers. So, as far as he was concerned, the whole event was relatively simple and straightforward, even a bit boring, especially during the parts when they moved through populated areas and the Prince Regent gave short, encouraging speeches. During these moments Cody had to stand behind the ruler, with his bucket off because, as he was told, he looked more human that way. Other _vode_ who made up the Prince Regent’s provisional bodyguard and had to stand around him during these durbars kept their helmets on; they actually changed in a rotation, without any of the Olzhakians even noticing the fact.

 

Finally they reached the Refuge—a sort of palace dug deep into a sheer rock.

 

As soon as they laid their eyes on it, Cody noticed a brother move closer to him. He recognised the just-a-tad-too-casual walk.

 

“Private channel,” he murmured. “Report, CT-007.”

 

The reply came just as quietly. “I have a ... bad feeling about this.”

 

Cody nodded. “A trap?” Well, of course a trap. That’s why they were here, after all. He stared up the rock face. “I’ll tell the men to keep on high alert.”

 

With a whine of engines the transports slid into the huge bay.

 

“Boz, Tank’s squad, 007, 42, Mug, with me,” he ordered over the comm. “The rest, take up positions, check everything.” The squad he had chosen for himself took up positions around the Prince Regent as they moved at a fast pace deeper into the Refuge.

 

The place was positively claustrophobic: long corridors with thick walls and blast doors at the intersections. The corridors were rather poorly lit—Olzhakians had excellent night vision, so what little lighting they had installed was more for the benefit of any human visitors. The tunnels were also rather narrow, so that no more than two brothers could walk abreast, and they had to keep their eyes (and HUD sensors) peeled not to stumble over each other or into any of the local dignitaries following the Prince Regent. Now and then there was another dull _thunk_ when a brother stumbled, and a whispered curse skittered through their helmet audio receivers.

 

Cody could not shake the uneasy feeling. What had General Kenobi sensed? If it was really one of his hunches...

 

It was the Prince Regent’s press representative, an elderly, bald but bearded male who triggered it first. Just as they were entering the planetary ruler’s private rooms, General Kenobi’s arm flashed out, trying to grab the man and pull him back, but too late. There was a flash, motion sensors activating a system, and there came a boom and rumble from overhead; and then another from somewhere to their left, and then another... The first block of rock that fell crushed the press representative. The General just stood there, his arms lifted up towards the ceiling.

 

“Evacuate! I repeat, evacuate NOW!”

 

Pebbles and sand rained on them and the troopers covered the Prince Regent as they hurried towards the closest emergency exit. Cody threw a glance at two local guardsmen, both lying on the floor, bloody and motionless.

 

“Go, Cody!”

 

“Not without you, General! Get out of here!”

 

“Go! I can only hold it so long!”

 

When Cody looked up, the ceiling had just come closer, a _lot_ closer, and General Kenobi, he was still standing like a titan holding up the celestial sphere. And of course, no bloody civilian ever knew when to take orders from an experienced officer.

 

A blast of fresh air and sunlight hit them when the troopers opened the emergency exit. Twelve meters. Just twelve meters separating them from safety. And at that moment he knew that the General was not going to make it.

 

“Bloody... Cody! GO! Go.”

 

“I am not losing another Jedi.”

 

And the General was visibly wilting, the rain of rocks getting heavier. Their way to freedom was being cut off under his very eyes, each fraction of a second stretched to infinity.

 

Cody grabbed the General and dived.

 

At that moment something heavy crashed into the side of his head and the world went black.

 

***

 

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was lying in a rather narrow, blue-lit space. His helmet had been removed and the General – also bareheaded – was crouching over him, staring into his face worriedly.

 

“Ah, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

 

“Head hurts a bit.” In fact it was throbbing quite badly. Cody lifted a hand to touch a side of his head. His fingers came away wet and sticky.

 

“No, don’t move. You were hit by the bigger part of the Olzhakians’ Secret Refuge. Your eye will likely swell shut and it’ll also leave a scar.”

 

Cody wanted to nod but it made his dizziness worse, so he just grunted. Well, a scar on his face would probably make him look cooler, more experienced. As he looked around, he recognised the light source as General Kenobi’s lightsaber, stuck between some rocks.

 

Rocks. And heavy durasteel panes criss-crossing, having created for them a sort of cave. They were walled in, buried under all that _fekking_ rock. This was not just a cave, this was a tomb. They might die here, a slow, agonizing death. Well, Cody thought glumly, he was created to die. He had hoped it would happen in a battle, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least now he was where he was meant to be: beside his general. He swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“You won’t believe me,” Kenobi said dryly. “We’re under Prince Regent’s desk. In his safe room. Where _you_ dragged _me._ It’s the devil’s own luck, if you asked anyone but me.”

 

“You don’t believe in luck.”

 

“Luck, the Force – call it what you will.” He sighed. “Cody, you really need to learn to trust me.”

 

“I do, sir.”

 

“Then why is it that you find it impossible to follow my orders?”

 

Cody managed a small smile of satisfaction. “Won’t leave my General behind. That is a higher order.” He let the air slowly out of his lungs, trying to suppress his headache. “First, defend the Republic,” he said slowly. “Defend the people; defend the Jedi generals. Follow orders.” His voice was somewhat slurred. “Die. I’m a good clone.”

 

“What brought that on? Of course you are. I’ve never met any better.” The General shook his head in exasperation. “Moreover, you probably did save my life. Thank you.”

 

“Doing my duty, sir.”

 

Kenobi fiddled with his comm for a moment, setting it to an automatic stress signal, then stuck the contraption into a crack between the rocks. “No idea whether the signal will get anywhere, but they’ll know we were left in here. They will be looking for any kind of signal. Don’t lose hope.”

 

Cody threw a glance at where it was whirring and blinking. Was someone out there receiving the signal? Had his brothers made it out? Would they come to search for survivors? Under normal circumstances they would certainly come for the Jedi General; but the problem was, no Jedi had officially been part of the mission troops. Would they come for CT-007? Or even for a CC like him? Depending on the cost, he thought bitterly.

 

But Boz, Boz was smart. Almost as smart as Rex. Boz would know that the General had gone missing and he had seen “007” in action in the last seconds before his escape; he would put two and two together and report the event to GAR, and they would send someone. They would certainly come to look for a Jedi. Definitely. The question was merely when. He and the General just had to manage until then. They had to hold on for as long as possible. Without water it would be difficult, but they would try. He knew he was going to give his damnedest.

 

“They will come,” he said out loud. “They must. They would come for a Jedi.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll come for you just as much as for me.” Cody felt something cold press to the side of his head. “The last coolpack from your medkit. The rest of your kit was destroyed, a falling rock caught it and cut it cleanly in half.”

 

Closing his eyes, Cody tried to force away all thoughts of their current situation. “At least the Prince Regent got away. Mission accomplished.”

 

“Yes.” There was a pause, then General Kenobi continued somewhat hesitantly. “Cody... I’m afraid your friend Boz ... didn’t.”

 

“Boz didn’t what?”

 

“Get away.”

 

“Oh.” He felt a chilly wave of despair wash down his spine. So they were going to die here. He thought about it another moment, surprised that he didn’t feel much anything at all. Everything just seemed so... distant, so irreal. Was that normal or was that a clone thing? Or something to do with his head wound? “How... how do you know, sir?”

 

“The Force. Its a Jedi thing.” His eyes unfocused slightly, he shuddered and sighed. “I hate it,” he said very quietly. “I hate being caved in. I hate the war. I hate death. I can feel each and every one of you, and ... Every Death reverberates through the Force.” He took a deep breath through his nose and smiled bitterly. “I suppose hating something is not the Jedi way. Were Master Yoda here, I would get a serious reprimand.”

 

Cody nodded. As he tried to adjust his position, he became aware of a clicking sound somewhere where his feet were. He poked it with his boot tip – another rap-click sounded. Slowly, so as not to worsen his headache, he tried to sit up. “What’s that under my feet?”

 

There was some shuffling about – some of it slightly embarrassing because there is only so much room for two adult males under a half collapsed desk, even if the said desk had belonged to a planetary ruler – but General Kenobi managed to turn himself around. “Looks like a safebox,” he announced. “And lookie here, the key’s still in. Now what do we have here?”

 

He fished out a bottle filled with some dark liquid, squinting to read the label in the bluish light of his lightsaber. “Royal Alderaan Très Vieille Age Inconnu. My, my, the Prince certainly had an expensive taste. And a, what? A box of tissues, looks like.”

 

“Tray-vyay-whatsisname, what’s that?”

 

“Genuine Alderaanian cognac,” the General said. “It might fetch several thousand creds on the market. Imagine a bottle of that surviving the collapse of the whole palace.”

 

“Luck,” Cody quipped. “Unless you say it’s the will of the Force again. Meaning we’re supposed to drink it.”

 

The Jedi chuckled as he unscrewed the cap and sniffed. “At least it will serve to disinfect your wound, though I’m afraid it will have quite a bite.”

 

It did, and Cody bit his lip but did not manage to keep in his groan entirely.

 

“Sorry,” Kenobi said. He then took a swallow from the bottle, smacked his lips and handed the cognac to Cody.

 

The liquid burned its way down his throat, but created a very pleasant feeling of warmth inside. However, from all the fuss that he knew was made around a drink like that, Cody found the experience rather disappointing. He took another swig and passed the bottle back.

 

They were silent again. Cody wondered whether General Kenobi honestly thought that he, Cody, did not follow orders. Ironically he had the same complaint about his General. They truly deserved each other, didn’t they?

 

“General, sir – why did you choose to be a general if you hate the war that much?”

 

Kenobi took a moment to think before replying. “I suppose it was my duty. You see, we are not so different, you and I. Defend the republic and the people, you said. It is not so different from us Jedi. Guardians of peace and justice. Use our powers to defend and protect. That is what the Jedi code says. And essentially you are living by the same code.”

 

“Except we don’t have any powers.”

 

“Don’t you?” The corner of his mouth curved a little upwards. “You have the might of the arms at your service. You have the power of your well-trained bodies and sharp minds. You have the ability to learn and adapt. You have the sharpness of your eye and the steadiness of your hand, which enables you to take down the enemy. You have the strength of your brothers who have your back. There are different powers in the universe, Cody, and believe me, you are not without.”

 

“Why did you become a Jedi, sir? If I may ask.”

 

He pursed his lips. “Well, the long and the short of it is, I did not. I was chosen as a baby.”

 

“And trained for the purpose?”

 

“And trained.”

 

Cody smiled a little. The General had spoken true: apparently the Jedi were indeed not very different from the clones.

 

He closed his eyes for a while – well, his one good eye, for his left eye was by now swollen well shut. He longed for a new coolpack; heck, a bottle of cool water would have been very welcome. And a pack of cookies.

 

The second round of the tray-vyay thing didn’t seem to burn as bitterly, but still created a pleasant heat when going down.

 

“So, Cody. Why did you choose that name for yourself?”

 

“Dunno. Sir. Why did you choose Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

 

“We don’t normally choose our own names.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“No, we are named at birth, by our parents.”

 

“But how do they know you are going to like the name when you grow up? Or if it’s going to suit you?”

 

The General shrugged. “We can change our names, if we really hate them. But very few do that. I guess we just get used to it, learn to identify ourselves with our names from a very young age.”

 

“Why aren’t we given names then? Just numbers. Like droids.”

 

“The law of the least effort, I suppose. Most races use sounds as their method of communication, so in order to distinguish every individual, they assign them strings of sounds as their identifiers. Your production was developed digitally, in a process based on numbers, so it was more efficient to differentiate you by numbers. At the end of the day though, a name does not determine what you are. It is just to help identify each other when there are more than two actors.”

 

Cody frowned. He had never thought about it that way. On the one hand, if what the General said was true, then his brothers’ yearning to find names for themselves seemed rather foolish and pointless, didn’t it? On the other hand, he had worked hard for his, and was proud to be Cody, and the idea that this pride was foolish did not sit well with him. Besides, a clone owned so few things in his life; and one of these few things was the name that he chose for himself, an expression of who he saw himself as.

 

“Why more than two?”

 

“Well, if there are only two beings around, just “me” and “you” will suffice.”

 

After the fourth round he thought his headache was getting somewhat manageable. “It must be true what they say,” he remarked wonderingly, “that this thing gets better, the older it gets.”

 

The General just toasted him with a slight smirk and took another swig.

 

After the seventh he finished telling the General the sorry tale of How Cody Finally Got His Jedi General.

 

“Bu... But you’re okay,” he declared, his speech more and more slurred. “You’re a good general. The best. Thank your Force or whoever it's you and not that crazy Jumping Skywalker.”

 

“Why does everybody seem to call him Jumping Skywalker?”

 

“A hologame. You’re the Master. He’s the Jumper. Crazy stunts and all that.”

 

“Hmm. Sounds familiar,” the General chuckled. “But this is so not your day, Cody. Anakin Skywalker is my apprentice and will be taking over a part of the troops.”

 

“You gotta be k... kidding me! I’d have to keep _him_ alive too? See how well I did with you!”

 

“You did adequately with me, I’d say – seeing as we both are still alive.”

 

“And nobody seems to do anything about it, and soon we aren’t, most likely.”

 

“Well aren’t you a little ray of sunshine! In any case, I was thinking of giving him the 501st.”

 

Cody sighed in relief. “Well, then he will be Appo's problem, Appo's a good steady man, he'll balance him.”

 

“I was more thinking of your crazy friend Rex.”

 

Cody gaped for a moment and burst out laughing. “Rex! Perfect. They’ll both get offed during their first mission together, in the grandest show of fireworks ever seen.”

 

“Let’s just make sure we have our seats in the first row then, shan’t we.”

 

After the ninth round the bottle was almost empty.

 

“Odd names you have,” Kenobi was musing. “Flex and Flexer, Fix and Fixer, Stun and Stunner, Tick and Ticker; Stick and Stone and Blast and Canon; three Fours and four Fives and two Fivers; Bash and Crash and Bang and Drum and Hummer... there is almost a poetry to it.”

 

“You truly know us all by name?”

 

“It’s easy....” The General’s speech was also slowing, but still hadn’t lost its sharp coreworld accent. “And then, of course, there are the eleven Twenty-Threes. Must be the most popular appellation in the whole GAR. I wonder why.”

 

“Must be good vats... the 23rds in each section. Good brothers... Less failures. Always make it.”

 

He must have fallen asleep for a while and wasn’t sure what woke him suddenly. The General was lying beside him, snoring softly, his head resting on his helmet in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

 

Then it came again: a slight rattling sound nearby, followed by the whisper and rustle of falling sand and pebbles.

 

And suddenly the comm unit fell down from the rock shelf where Kenobi had stuck it.

 

Panic seized him. An avalanche? Cursing, he grabbed the lightsaber just as it was beginning to fall on them; luckily it extinguished automatically, or they would have been cut in half.

 

And then the rocks and rubble around them began to rise slowly, slowly upwards, raining dust on them. Like colossal grey snowflakes in a soft gust of wind they moved and danced away, revealing a patch of blue, sun-filled sky.

 

A lithe figure clad in brown Jedi clothes appeared in the opening. “There you two are!” And he made a spectacular jump down the funnel, landing on top of the broken desk without stirring a single speck of dust around them. “Your taxi is here, Master and Commander! Let’s get you both out of here.”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is how Cody got the scar over his left eye and cheek, and why Obi-Wan's haircut changes from Episode II to the Clone Wars cartoon series.
> 
> Sorry, couldn't resist Obi-Wan's designation.


	6. Darth Daughter's artwork

 

Darth Daughter's artwork for this story, please send love and praises her way here or on her [Tumblr](http://odekiisu.tumblr.com/post/147535236991/for-redonethegreat-happy-birthday-darth-mum).


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